


In My Office

by Ellxhii



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Attraction, Drabble, Just something to get my creative juices flowing again, Light Angst, M/M, Rufus Shinra Being An Asshole, Rufus is still VP in this, Scarlet crashes the party, Sexual Tension, Shinra Company, Short, Turks (Compilation of FFVII), Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wanted to write Rufus having Tseng tied around his finger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24377434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellxhii/pseuds/Ellxhii
Summary: Rufus would continue to play this little game, and he soon came to realize that it had backfired straight in his face. Tseng would never pull away, and Rufus didn’t know if it was because of his unwavering loyalty to him, or the fact that heactually enjoyed itas well.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 8
Kudos: 82





	In My Office

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little cute Rufus/Tseng for you all. Needed to get out of this weird writers block I've been having of never finishing stories.  
> Follow me on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/Zionria) for more shenanigans and me yelling about how much I love the Turks.

Rufus loves toying with Tseng, and he knows he can do so without Tseng being able to fight back. 

It had started with just a little brush of their hands, back when Tseng’s ponytail was still short stalked. At the time, Rufus would just gently brush their knuckles when he stood next to him. Child's play, really. The reaction Rufus got definitely surprised him: Tseng would only step to the side to give him more personal space.

As the months added up, Rufus had escalated to giving Tseng prolonged looks, eyes locked onto Tseng’s, earthy brown clashing with crystal blue. Tseng would just raise his eyebrows and ask Rufus if something was amiss. Normally the Vice President would just dismiss him and let him be on his way. But that particular day he was feeling a little— _daring—_ and it resulted in him staring at Tseng’s sharp features until the Turk had a slight pink tinge to his cheeks. 

Rufus would continue to play this little game, and he soon came to realize that it had backfired straight in his face. Tseng would never pull away, and Rufus didn’t know if it was because of his unwavering loyalty to him, or the fact that he _actually enjoyed it_ as well.

Months of being in the public and _not_ being able to do what he really wanted to Tseng had put a strain on him. While Tseng stands beside him during meetings, while Tseng hands him paperwork, while Tseng _breathes_. 

It was on one particular night where Rufus’ schedule was free that he _just didn’t care anymore_. 

The air around him grows humid, dark lights and fog crowd his senses from the ceiling to floor windows in his office. He hears the chopping blades of a helicopter nearby, followed by a distant hum before it disappears into thin air.

The smog from the city blankets the stars, and the night sky seems to dim as he waits. The single vase of flowers sits at his desk, bright orange and yellow. They seem to mock him, their contrast to his dark marble desk almost stiffening. 

Rufus _knows_ this is risky, _knows_ that calling Tseng to his office might result in something that would be _very unfortunate_ if someone were to walk in on them.

He _knows_ that Tseng will probably pull away, probably remind him of the warning he's had in his head the whole night.

He _knows_ , but he doesn’t care.

A chill runs down his spine when he hears footsteps click down the hall, expectation rising in his chest. 

Rufus is sick of waiting.

The doors to his office stay closed as the footsteps cease. He hears a muffled laugh, followed by a voice that Rufus recognizes as the Third Class SOLDIER assigned to watch his door for the evening.

The doors creek, slow and steady, as Tseng steps inside. The untouched, ironed look of his suit matches with the clean marble that Rufus swears on his life has never gotten dirty. Tseng looks polished, more pristine, wearing the suit that he only wears when he has no time for all the things that make him human. Sharp black shoes click against the flooring, and Tseng walks in with his hands behind his back. Rufus swears he can hear the way Tseng sighs before stopping in front of his desk, eyes expecting, _wanting_.

Rufus sits there, fingers crossed, chin resting atop his hands. Blue eyes challenge brown, Tseng never once breaking his position.

They stay like that for a moment; just staring.

It's Rufus who gets up first, hands wiping across his desk as he moves. Tseng watches him, head slowly tilting as Rufus comes up to his right side. Rufus walks up to him, eyes never once leaving the sweet curvature of Tseng’s lips. He just stands there, questioning, almost fighting the want to say more.

Normally, Rufus would be wearing his full attire, dark dress shirt with tie and white jacket adorned with belts and buttons that Tseng thinks is ridiculous(though he would never say it to Rufus' face). But now Rufus is adorned with only his dress shirt and matching pants, tie discarded hours ago as soon as he stepped into his office from a mentally draining meeting.

His shirt is rolled up to his elbows, the two buttons of his dress collar undone. It's a gift only for Tseng.

Rufus stands there, hands itching to reach up and touch, to rub, to _feel_.

"Sir..." Tseng is consciously aware of how fragile he sounds when he speaks, how his voice almost wavers in anticipation of Rufus' next move. 

The empty office, as grand and vast as it is for one single man, is their only audience. It answers Tseng back with an empty, hollowed echo of his own puny voice.

Tseng feels his chest tighten when Rufus brings his hand up, deliberately slow, to run down Tseng's hair. His hands twitch, fingers itching behind his gloves as he keeps his hands behind his back. Rufus revels in the feeling of Tseng's hair against his skin, as if he's never touched hair before.

"Did you need.." Tseng starts, lips suddenly feeling a little too chapped. Rufus trails his eyes down Tseng's face, then back up to meet dark brown.

Tseng can't even finish his sentence.

Rufus seems to smile at this and he steps forward, causing the tips of their black dress shoes to touch. Tseng lets him, and finds himself getting wrapped up in the feeling of Rufus so close to him. He chides himself with how childish he _thinks_ he's acting just from Rufus’ touch. He's around Rufus everyday: in meetings, during assignments, giving reports. 

He told himself that should be enough. Just being in the same room, the same _vicinity_ ought to be enough.

His thoughts betray him, and he lets himself get swept away in a daydream of Rufus, fingers brushing and teeth biting. Before he knows it Rufus has taken control. Tseng becomes pliant in his hands: one yank and he could easily have Tseng on his knees. And maybe, just maybe, it might be what Tseng wants.

When Rufus leans in even further, Tseng's breath gets caught in his throat. The other male knows he's in charge—as he always is—and he tests the waters even further. 

Their noses brush, and Rufus dips his head in for the kiss but Tseng pulls back, forehead against forehead and they’re _so close_.

“Sir…” Tseng whispers out, the night air turning heavy and he _waits_ . The feeling in his chest tightens and he squeezes his hands as a result. He knows the cat and dog game Rufus is playing, the aching want to act but the responsibility not to. Rufus is teasing him, watching what makes him crack, what makes him _tick_.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it.

The resolve that Tseng has built up over the years starts to break, a single crack growing longer, sharper, and he wants so badly to touch him, to _feel_ him. Rufus inhales, the sweet smell of Tseng invades his senses and smothers his tongue. Cinnamon and wood, and _so_ warm.

Tseng’s eyes are heavy, dark brown smoldering to black and he brings his hands in front of him. Steadily, almost achingly, as if he’s asking Rufus if he can touch him.

Rufus gives no answer, and in the end Tseng rests them on Rufus’ shoulders, wanting, _inviting_.

They’re so close now, nearly giving each other air from the proximity of their lips. Tseng tilts his head, nose brushing against Rufus’ cheek and he opens his mouth, slowly, watching as Rufus’ blue eyes turn to navy, lust glossing over them.

Rufus continues to run his hand through Tseng’s hair, and when he pulls on the long strands a sigh falls out of Tseng’s lips, soft and warm and Rufus wants it all over his skin.

Chest pressed against chest beneath layers of cotton. 

Rufus smirks and finally dips his head in, leisurely, _sensually_ , and he can nearly hear the anticipation and pure need dripping out of Tseng’s lips.

Rufus finally moves in for the kiss, slow and steady, Tseng breathes Rufus in as if he is his only source of air, hopeless and deprived and _aching_ for more. Rufus whispers Tseng’s name against his lips, prolonging each letter as if to savor them. Tseng can only dig into Rufus’ shoulders, pressing so tightly as if it was _meant for him_.

His _home_.

When Rufus tugs on his hair again, Tseng automatically gasps, his mouth opening slightly and Rufus takes that as an invitation to explore. His tongue finds its way into Tseng’s mouth and now he’s whimpering, the feeling of getting overpowered so foreign and so _intoxicating_ that he’s letting himself _drown in it_. His eyes are closed and he can only grasp onto Rufus, who holds him steady with one hand around his head and the other around his waist. 

Tseng closes his eyes and grabs onto Rufus as if he actually _was_ drowning, the feeling of finally being together in a way that's more than words—in a way that’s _so completely tangible_ —consuming him.

The echoing sound of sharp steps; sharp _heels_ , rings in Tseng’s ears like a bomb. He scrambles away from Rufus like he’s a _disease_ , wiping his mouth and straightening his tie and feeling completely disheveled. Rufus smirks, _the damned brat_ , and acts as if nothing has happened. He cracks his neck and walks back around his desk, calmly pulling out his chair—the Vice President chair—to sit down.

As soon as his ass hits the cushion, Scarlet busts through the door, heels clacking and eyes sharp. She has a manila folder in her hands, and she walks as if she’s annoyed to be here. There’s a guard next to her that's pathetically crawling on his hands and knees as he tries to keep up with her elongated steps. 

Tseng stands off to the side with the most professional poker face he can muster, arms crossed behind his back.

“Your father wanted me to give you this to review.” Scarlet gripes, and although she’s got impatience practically oozing off of her, she carefully hands the folder over to Rufus when she reaches his desk. “I highly doubt you _need_ to though, you know my weapons are all pro-grade.” 

Rufus returns the smile she’s giving him, “very well.” As quickly as she had come, Scarlet excuses herself, not even giving Tseng a second look. It’s as if he’s invisible, and when she disappears through those big office doors with that pathetic grunt of a SOLDIER, Rufus lets out a small chuckle.

“Well then…” He leans back in his seat, his arms resting at the sides of his chair. Tseng is staring at the marble flooring now, his face contorting gradually. Rufus keeps the smug smile on his own face before Tseng finally speaks out.

“Sir…” he confesses tenderly, “this is why we can’t—” 

Rufus cuts him off, eyes sharp. “You enjoyed it, did you not?”

“I…” Tseng sighs, words trickling out of his mouth before he can even say them.

Rufus seems to enjoy that answer, and he picks up the manila folder from earlier. He flips the folder back and forth as if he was studying it, but truthfully he was just prolonging the silence that he knows Tseng gets antsy from. He flings the file back on his desk as if it had offended him, face smug and eyes condescending. 

“That is all, you may leave.” Rufus emphasizes, bringing his hand up to rest on his cheek as he stares at Tseng. Tseng looks surprised, eyes widening quickly before returning to their normal state. He nods and shuffles away with his hands grasped tightly behind his back.

When Tseng gets to the office doors, he bends forward into a bow, hair falling in front of his face. When he looks up, Rufus is smiling at him ever so sweetly. Tseng turns towards the door to take his leave, but before he can put his hand on the door handle, Rufus’ cunning voice floods his ears.

“Come back tomorrow, same time.”

A shiver that Tseng can’t hide and _knows_ Rufus can see makes its way down his spine, and he mutters out a small “sir”, before making his way out the door.

Maybe Rufus can try again tomorrow. 

**Author's Note:**

> Take a shot every time I used an adverb that ends in ly LOL. My fave type of words 😌.  
> Comments and kudos much appreciated, also if there is a typo pls ignore,,,


End file.
